


got a hold on me

by softeldritch



Series: are you mine [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Winnipeg Jets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softeldritch/pseuds/softeldritch
Summary: Patrik picks up on the third ring, his voice a rumbling, “hey, Nik,” and Nikolaj lets that voice wash over him as he melts back into the pillows."Hey,” he says, already a little breathless. “I wanna suck your dick.”





	got a hold on me

**Author's Note:**

> i was very pissed and frustrated after last night’s loss, so i channelled it into something ””””””productive””””””
> 
> this fits somewhere into the continuity of this series but it’s literally just PWP and therefore can be read as a standalone
> 
> (title from _ain't my fault_ by _zara larsson_ )

It’s maybe not the best idea to be doing this, when he knows the team has to be on the bus to catch their flight early tomorrow morning. But Nikolaj’s stuck at home with his stupid fractured ankle and he had to watch Patrik getting a hat trick without being there to give him a hat trick blowjob in their hotel room afterwards, so. He’s bored, he’s horny, and if Patrik doesn’t wanna indulge him he can always hang up.

Patrik won’t, because Patrik _never_ turns down any kind of sex. But at least this way Nikolaj can convince himself it’s not his fault if Patrik oversleeps and misses the call to catch the bus.

He gets himself comfortable, lounging back on their bed, propped up with a pile of pillows at his back and a couple under his ankle to keep it elevated. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s about 10 PM over in Toronto, where Patty is. Nikolaj finds himself grateful—for _once_ —that Patrik’s not the type to go out for drinks with the team after a win unless Nikolaj’s there to drag him along.

Anticipation makes him squirm as he calls Patrik, his dick already half-hard in his (Patrik’s) sweats. Fuck injuries, and _fuck_ week-long roadies. It’s definitely been too long.

Patrik picks up on the third ring, his voice a rumbling, “hey, Nik,” and Nikolaj lets that voice wash over him as he melts back into the pillows.

“Hey,” he says, already a little breathless. “I wanna suck your dick.”

Patrik curses. Nikolaj can hear some movement on his end of the call, probably the shift of a mattress, because there’s no way Patrik wasn’t already settled on the bed to play a game or watch a movie or something. After a second there’s silence, and then Patrik’s voice is pitched lower when he says, “That’s not very nice, Niky. Saying that when I can’t do anything about it.”

Nikolaj laughs, arousal thrumming through him in time with his pulse. “You can do _something_ about it,” he says, splaying a hand wide on his stomach. “I’m not busy, and I know you’re not doing anything, so . . .” He lets himself trail off, hand drifting down towards his dick but not quite touching.

“Are you naked?”

It makes Nikolaj smirk, even though Patrik can’t see him. “Nope,” he says, dragging it out. He lets it linger between them, for just a second, before he follows up with, “I’m wearing your clothes.”

Patrik groans, and Nikolaj wonders what he’s doing. Whether he’s touching his dick, or if he’s letting the anticipation build like Nikolaj is. He imagines Patrik laying back in bed the way he is, rubbing the heel of his hand over his dick—it makes his own dick throb, and he just barely swallows down the tiny moan building in his throat.

There’s still silence on the other end of the phone, though, so Nikolaj keeps going. “You didn’t do laundry before you left,” he says, rubbing at his hips, dragging fingers over his inner thighs. He doesn’t wanna touch anything else—and it’s stupid, it’s really fucking stupid—until Patrik gives him permission. “Which is really fucking annoying, but—” He drags the collar of Patrik’s shirt up around his nose and breathes it in. “It smells like you. It’s nice.”

Patrik laughs, a bit strained. “That’s cute, Nik.” He’s not making much noise, he never does, but there’s a tension in his voice and Nikolaj _knows_ he’s touching himself. Nikolaj’s entire body heats up, and he muffles a pathetic little whine into the collar of the shirt. Patrik must hear it, because he laughs again, all easy confidence when he asks, “are you touching your dick?”

“No,” Nikolaj mumbles, still clutching at the shirt.

“Good,” Patrik says. “Don’t.”

His tone is decisive, and Nikolaj chokes on a moan. “What the hell,” he says, even as his dick throbs at the idea. “Patty, that’s not fair—”

“So?” Patrik groans, low and quiet, and Nikolaj imagines him palming himself through his sweats. “You called me for a reason. If you just wanted to jack off, you could have done that on your own.” He snickers, and Nikolaj can almost _see_ the stupid smirk. “You have lube with you, right?”

Nikolaj doesn’t answer, eyes flicking down to the bottle of lube sitting near his hip. He can’t admit it’s there, can’t admit _why_ he specifically got it out, because admitting that Patrik’s right about what he wants isn’t something he’s willing to do without alcohol or a really good fuck.

Patrik knows what his silence means, though. “Knew it,” he croons, annoyingly smug. “Don’t touch it yet.”

“Well, what _am_ I allowed to touch?” Nikolaj snaps, his hand still curled into the shirt and resting on his chest. His body is humming with anticipation, waiting for whatever Patrik will give him, tuned into the soft breathing in his ear. “I didn’t call just to sit here and listen to you touch your dick.”

“Be creative,” Patrik says. “Touch whatever you want, just not your dick or your ass. And if you’re good, I’ll let you have what you want.” He’s grinning on the other end, Nikolaj can tell, all proud of himself for coming up with this.

Nikolaj breathes in a long, shuddering breath. “Fuck you, Patty,” he murmurs, as though his dick’s not hard and leaking from just a few words. It’s not fair, how easily Patrik can rile him up and make him ache just by telling him what to do. That doesn’t stop him from uncurling his hand and slowly, achingly dragging it down his chest and over his stomach, shoving down the waistband of the sweats so he can rub at the sharp point of his hip bone, down further to claw searing lines into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He groans, hips twitching, thighs trembling a little. Every touch feels like lightning, his nerves all keyed up and frayed from so little.

“Good,” Patrik says, soft and pleased, and Nikolaj doesn’t quite manage to stifle his whimper when that tone shoots straight to his dick. “That’s it, Nik. What are you doing?”

“Touching myself, like you said, jackass.” His voice wavers, as he digs his fingers in to grab and knead at the flesh of his inner thigh, a low moan slipping out. He imagines Patrik being here, kneeling between Nikolaj’s thighs, spreading them apart far enough that he’d feel the burn of it. Patrik always likes to push a little too far. “My—my thigh, you know, that spot where you like to leave marks.” Just the idea of bruises, of Patrik marking him up and staking a claim, makes him whine. He digs his fingers in harder, until it hurts. “Fuck, Patty, I wish you were here.”

“Yeah,” Patrik says, low and ragged in his ear. “Me too, Niky. You’re so hot like this. So good for me.” His breath stutters on a groan, and Nikolaj— _fuck_ , he wants to touch Patrik’s dick. Mostly he wants to get on his knees and swallow him down, sit there with his hands curled on his thighs while Patrik fucks his mouth. “Do you wanna open yourself up for me?”

Oh, fuck. “Yeah,” Nikolaj groans, rubbing the heel of his hand over the skin between his hip and his cock. It’s not enough at all but the pressure and the proximity make his dick throb and his spine melt. “Please, c’mon.”

Patrik hums in his ear. “Maybe. I don’t know you want it bad enough yet.”

“You—“ Nikolaj digs his fingers into the skin of his lower belly and whines, trembling like he’s just been taken to the edge and pulled back. It definitely feels like it. “Patty, don’t,” he warns, his voice small and broken. “Please, just let me, don’t be a dick.”

“You can do better than that,” Patrik says softly.

Fuck. “Patty,” Nikolaj says, already burning up from the humiliation of what Patrik wants him to do. He breathes in a little too hard, a little too fast. “Please, I need it.”

“Need what?”

“Fuck you,” Nikolaj growls, almost instinctively, even as a shudder wracks his entire body. Patrik says nothing, just groans softly in his ear. Nikolaj wonders whether he’s touching himself properly yet, if he’s got a hand around his dick—and that just makes him think of Patrik’s _hands_ , big and warm, squeezing around his thighs and gripping at his hips, and he moans before he can swallow it. “Patty, I need—let me open myself up, please, I miss it, miss you, _fuck_ —” He’s rambling, probably not making any sense, but his head’s swimming and suddenly everything _aches_.

Patrik breathes out a low, harsh breath in his ear, and Nikolaj whines just from the sound. “Okay,” he says, “get the lube,” and Nikolaj almost knocks it off the bed in his scramble to grab it.

It’s a struggle to open it one-handed; he’s suddenly appreciative of how often Patrik manages it. “ _Fuuuck_ ,” he breathes, just to let some of the tension out, coating his fingers as much as he can. His entire body feels like it’s vibrating as he reaches down between his legs, circling two fingers around his opening, moaning through his teeth when it sends sparks right to his dick.

“One finger,” Patrik tells him, and Nikolaj’s hips stutter up against his wrist.

“Patrik.” He tries to sound pissed, but his voice cracks on the second syllable. “Don’t.”

Patrik just laughs, hushed and rough. “One finger,” he repeats. Nikolaj’s pretty sure he can hear Patrik jerking off through the phone, and his dick twitches against his hip. “You’re still injured, Niky, we don’t want you to hurt yourself even more.” He’s so full of bullshit and they both know it, and Nikolaj wants to shove three fingers in just to prove him wrong, but—

“I hate you,” he groans, and slowly, tentatively, thrusts one finger inside. It’s electric, the not-quite-enough pressure, Patrik breathing in his ear, and he whines at the back of his throat and curls his finger. “Fuck, Patty.”

“So good,” Patrik murmurs, and arousal buzzes at the base of Nikolaj’s spine. “So pretty like this.”

Nikolaj trembles. “You can’t even see me,” he says breathlessly, fucking himself with one finger. It’s not nearly enough. “You don’t know if I’m—if I’m pretty or not.”

“You’re always pretty,” Patrik tells him, low and definitive, and Nikolaj can’t stop the shuddery little moan. Part of him hates how easily that word gets to him—he’s a hockey player, not a teenage girl—but the rest of him’s just shaking with how fucking turned on he is. “You’re right, though. I can’t see you.” He’s silent for a second. “So if you send me a picture, you can have as many fingers as you want.”

“ _Fuck_ —” It turns into a bitten-off moan, high up in his throat, and Nikolaj bucks his hips up against something that’s not there. “I’m not—I’m not doing _that_ , Patty.”

Patrik chuckles. “Then I guess one finger is good enough?”

Nikolaj curls the one finger against his prostate and almost _sobs_. “It’s not, it’s fucking not,” he mumbles, arching his back, trying to find some position that’ll give him what he needs. But that’s the problem, because what he needs is Patrik. “Are you seriously gonna make me do this?”

“Well,” Patrik says, his grin obvious in his voice, “you’re gonna do it, right?”

It knocks loose a startled laugh, because yeah, yeah he is. “You’re so demanding,” he whispers, shifting his grip on his phone. “Give me a second, you freak.”

His hand is sweaty, but he manages to open the camera after a bit of fumbling. When he flips it to selfie mode he catches sight of himself—flushed and trembling, his eyes all hazy and unfocused—and it makes him whimper, how fucking _wrecked_ he looks. It’s a bit trickier, getting the shot right, because he can’t get everything in frame and his arm is shaking. After a few frantic snaps he ends up with two mostly unblurred pictures; one centred on his hips, showing Patrik’s sweats shoved down around his thighs, a finger in his ass and his dick leaking up against his stomach, and a second further up that’s mostly tame, showing the flush on his cheeks and the lust in his eyes as he stares up at the camera. He sends off both before shame can make him hesitate, immediately bringing the phone back to his ear, already burning with humiliation.

Patrik makes this sound like he’s been punched, and it goes straight to Nikolaj’s dick. “Niky,” he murmurs, “you’re so hot, _fuck_ , wish I was there, wish I was watching you. Are you—” he groans. “Are you using more fingers?”

Nikolaj flushes even hotter, because he hadn’t even realized he was waiting for Patrik to _ask_ . “I-I’m—” he stutters, and Patrik laughs, like he _knows_. “Shut up.” He pulls out just to shove three fingers in all at once, moaning through the burn of it. His entire body trembles when he presses against his prostate, arousal pumping through his body with every heartbeat, throbbing in his dick. “P-Patty,” he mumbles, and he doesn’t know what else to say.

“That’s it, Nik,” Patrik’s saying in his ear, soft and strained. “Come on, fuck yourself for me, like you’re opening yourself up for me.”

“Fu- _uuuck_ ,” Nikolaj hiccups, doing exactly what Patrik’s telling him, grinding and curling his fingers like Patrik does when he’s trying to drive him crazy. “Patty—want you here, want your dick, _fuck_ , I can’t—”

Patrik groans, and Nikolaj _feels_ it under his skin. “It’s okay, Niky, I’m here, I’m right here.” His breathing’s getting harsher, like he’s about to come, and Nikolaj wants—fuck, he just wants to touch him. He writhes down on the mattress and crooks his fingers, wanting hands on him, wanting to be able to look up and see blue eyes staring back. Frustration makes him whine, and Patrik makes a soothing sound through the phone. “You’re okay, you’re so good. Come for me, Nik, c’mon. I wanna hear you come for me.”

 _Oh_ , Nikolaj thinks, shoving his fingers in deep as he spasms around them and comes all over his stomach with a loud cry. That’s what he was waiting for. Permission.

Patrik moans through his own orgasm a few seconds later, murmuring something that might be Nikolaj’s name, and Nikolaj just tries to breathe through the tremors running up and down his spine. A whimper slips free when he pulls out his fingers, and then every time he breathes there’s a whine on the end. Everything’s just—so much, right now, as Patrik’s breathing starts to calm in his ear and the aftershocks stop rolling through him so harshly.

“You sound so pretty when you come,” Patrik croons.

Nikolaj’s too tired from pain meds to go another round, but his dick gives a valiant twitch against his thigh. “Smug asshole,” he says breathlessly, scowling when Patrik laughs.

“Those pictures were really nice, too.”

“Fuck.” Nikolaj turns his head to the side so he can muffle his groan into a pillow, embarrassment a hot flush under his skin. “I should never have done that. You have to delete those.”

Patrik hums. “When I get home. I might get lonely and need them again.”

“You’re the worst,” Nikolaj tells him, trying not to shiver at the idea of Patrik jacking off to pictures he sent. “If those ever get out, somehow—” He ignores Patrik’s almost offended noise of protest, like it’s not a real possibility. “If those get out, you’re doing a full nude photoshoot. Like, I mean more naked than Seguin.”

“Okay,” Patrik says easily. Right. Stupid Patrik and his complete lack of shame. “So, how’s your ankle?”

Nikolaj opens his eyes, lifting his head from the pillow to glare at his ankle. “Fine,” he says, wiggling his toes to get a bit of feeling back into his foot. “I’ve been using the stupid boot. It’s a lot better when I have you here to do whatever I want for me, though.”

Patrik huffs out a laugh. Nikolaj relaxes into the sound, letting his eyes slip shut even though he’s gonna have to get up and clean himself up sooner or later. “I’ll try and get home fast so I can spoil you,” Patrik promises, all low and sweet, and Nikolaj grins.

“Only if you’re bringing home wins, babe.”

Patrik snorts. “I’m bringing home a hat trick, so you still owe me a blowjob.” Yeah, Nikolaj hasn’t forgotten. He’s looking forward to it.

“Hey, Patty,” he says, shifting his grip on the phone. “Come home soon, though.” He knows how hockey schedules work, and he knows Patrik won’t be home for another two days. But the apartment feels weird without him, and Nikolaj’s still making coffee for two every morning.

“Soon,” Patrik agrees. “Call me back when you’re cleaned up, I wanna talk until you fall asleep.”

Nikolaj laughs, warmth soothing the weird homesickness in his chest. “Wow, that’s romantic.”

“I miss you,” Patrik says, like it’s that simple.

“I miss you too,” Nikolaj says, because maybe it is.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao happy 21st patty
> 
> [tumblr](http://soft-eldritch.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](http://twitter.com/softeldritch)


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